


Salazar Lucilius: The Hogwarts years

by Vitalis



Series: Salazar Lucilius [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, OC, Post-Battle of Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-04 01:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitalis/pseuds/Vitalis
Summary: Salazar Lucilius, a pureblood from England, has been accepted into Hogwarts. How exactly will these next seven years of his life go? Herein lies adventure, action, and perhaps a bit of romance. This story will be the first part of a two, possibly three part fanfiction.  Takes place after the Battle of Hogwarts, but before the "Nineteen Years later" mark.  Rated Teen and Up just to be safe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Salazar Lucilius: The Hogwarts Years**

**Chapter 1**

Salazar Lucilius and his family lived in Royal Tunbridge Wells. His parents Victor and Persephone were both magic in nature, and Salazar was due to turn eleven today. His birthday party had been over for about two hours, and it was now time for bed. An hour ago, he'd gotten his acceptance letter from Hogwarts, and as he lay in bed trying to sleep, he heard his parents conversing.  
"He's going to be a Slytherin, like his father," said Victor.  
"Oh no, no, that's _entirely_ wrong," Persephone countered. "He strikes me a bit harder as _Ravenclaw_ material."  
"I'm telling you, dear, he's going to be a _Slytherin_. Now go to sleep, we're keeping Salazar awake."  
Salazar ran a hand through his brown hair and closed his green eyes before rolling over. Tomorrow would be a day for school shopping, he knew, and his father wouldn't be kept waiting.

The next day was indeed shopping day. After wolfing down his breakfast of pancakes and bacon, he and his father headed to Diagon Alley via side-along apparition, landing outside of Flourish and Blotts. "You nose around, son, while I handle your schoolbooks," he said. Salazar had just spotted a rather juicy book on curses when a girl his age almost ran into him.  
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Sorry, I'm just so excited for my first term! I bet I get sorted into Ravenclaw like my family always does. I'm Constance Havisham."  
"Salazar Lucilius," Salazar replied. "My father's getting my books. His brother makes brooms, and _whacking_ great ones at that!"  
"Think you'll play quidditch?"  
"If I can help it, I sure will!" Salazar replied enthusiastically. "My father wants me to be a Slytherin, and my mother thinks I'll be a Ravenclaw."  
"Slytherin?" said Constance with a giggle. "Come on you're not _that_ bad!"  
"Connie, dear, we've got your books!" came a voice from the next aisle. "Oh," said the voice's owner. "And who's our friend?"

"I'm Salazar Lucilius."  
"Ah yes… any relation to Vincent Lucilius?"  
"He's my uncle," said Salazar.  
"His brooms are fantastic! Granted, they're not firebolts, but they're good racing brooms all the same."  
"We eat Cleansweeps for breakfast," Salazar said matter-of-factly, "and Nimbus steak twice a week at least."  
The two shook hands. "I'm Lysander Havisham. This is my wife, Elizabeth. You already know Constance."  
"She tells me you're all Ravenclaws."  
"We've got about three Gryffindors in the family," said Elizabeth, "but it could be worse. They could be Slytherins."  
Salazar chuckled. "Or they could go to some inferior school like Ilvermorny."  
"Oh please God and Jesus, _no_!" said Constance. "At any rate, we should leave. I've got my wand already, cherry with a unicorn tail hair core, twelve inches, and whippy, thank you… but I still need my cauldron and robes. I hope to see you again."

"Alright, Salazar, we're leaving," said Victor, walking up while Salazar was starting to read the book he'd found. "Next stop is Ollivanders." They headed there, and when they arrived, Garrick Ollivander greeted them with a small smile. "Another first year," he said. "And what's this? Victor Lucilius, I presume? Cherry, ten inches, phoenix feather? Unyielding?"  
"That's correct," said Victor, nodding.  
"I remember every wand I've sold, Mister Lucilius, remember that now. This is your son?"  
"That's right, here's Salazar. What can you do for him?"  
"Here," said Ollivander. "Try this. Holly, nine inches. Unicorn tail hair core and springy."  
Salazar gave the wand a wave. "No… that's not the right one. Try this." And so Salazar tried wand after wand. Twenty wands later, he'd found his match.  
"There it is!" said Ollivander happily, clapping his hands together. "Thirteen inches, ebony… dragon heartstring core. Decently bouncy." Victor paid the wandmaker, and off they went to get the rest of Salazar's supplies.

"Mum says I'll be a Ravenclaw," said Salazar. "I overheard you last night."  
"Oh don't listen to her, what's _she_ know? You're a Slytherin, and don't you forget it!"  
"Well, this girl I met's from a family of Ravelclaws," Salazar admitted. "Her name's Connie Havisham, and she…"  
"Havisham!" said Victor, turning to his son. "Salazar, I want you to ingratiate yourself to these people, and I'll do the same. It's wise to have the Havishams on your side, son. Remember that."  
Salazar smiled as they apparated home, and their mother greeted them with a steaming hot supper of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and spinach. "How was shopping?" she asked.  
"Salazar ran into a Havisham," said Victor. "I'm telling you if we make friends with the Havishams, our fortune is made! Great people, they are!" Salazar was confused. What made the Havishams so monumental? He was certain to find out soon.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Constance Havisham was practically bouncing in her chair at dinner time.  Her mother stroked her black hair and smiled.  “Best keep an eye on the boys, Connie,” she said.  “They’re the hungry half of the species, I find.”  
Constance giggled, her blue eyes locking on to her father’s.  “What do you make of that Lucilius boy, Connie?” he asked.  
“Salazar’s awfully nice,” Constance replied.  “I actually like him.”  
“It’s been a few weeks, and I’ve noticed you’re exchanging owls,” said Lysander.  “He seems a good sort.”  
“He really does,” said Elizabeth wholeheartedly.  “Perhaps he’ll be a Ravenclaw, or a Gryffindor.”  
“He _does_ strike me as a Gryffindor,” mused Constance.  “But I hope we’re in the same House.  Oh, darn… Vakrey?”

A small crack sounded, and an elf appeared next to Constance.  “Miss Constance?” the elf said in its high-pitched voice.  “How may Vakrey serve?”  “I’ve left my copy of _The Standard Book of Spells_ on the porch.  Would you take it up to my room, please?”  The elf nodded and obeyed.  The Havishams were an old family of wizards, and mostly worked for the Ministry of Magic in some capacity or another.  A Geoffery Havisham was, in fact, the head of the Wizards’ Council from 1620 to 1658.

The day finally came for Constance to leave for Hogwarts, and as she was about to board the Hogwarts Express, she heard a familiar voice.  “All right there, Connie?” Salazar called out with a wave.  
“Perfectly!” a smiling Constance said in response.  “You _will_ sit with me, won’t you?”  
“Absolutely!” said Salazar.  “Now let’s get on the train, quick, before it leaves without us.”  
“Write to us, dear, and _please_ do come home at least for Christmas itself!” said Lysander.  “Have a fantastic term.”  
Constance and Salazar, sharing a compartment, watched the scenery.  “So how was your summer?” Constance asked.  
“It was alright,” said Salazar.  “Saw my team play, and we beat those bloody Cannons.  The Ballycastle Bats are my men!”  
“ _Ballycastle_?” Constance replied with a playful scoff.  “Uh, Wigtown Wanderers; hello!”  
“Anything off the trolley, dears?” a somewhat plump lady asked.  
Salazar and Constance ordered a bit of food, and continued watching the scenery.  
“I’ve _got_ your ruddy… Ballycastle Bats,” she muttered playfully.

When the train arrived at Hogwarts, a giant of a man, holding a lantern stood head and shoulders, quite literally, over the crowd.  “Firs’ years!” he called out.  “Firs’ years, this way!”  Constance and Salazar followed the huge man, climbing into a boat.  The boats glided across the water effortlessly.  “Duck yer heads!” the man called out as they passed under an ivy tunnel.  They stopped in an underground harbor, and Salazar smiled.  From here, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was sorted.    
“Slytherin… Slytherin…” he whispered to himself.

“I’ve got them, Professor Flitwick,” said the giant.  
“Excellent, Hagrid,” the small man said in his high pitched voice.  
They made an excellent contrast, Professor Flitwick and this Hagrid fellow, Salazar thought to himself as the diminutive half-goblin began his speech.  
“Good evening, young sorcerers, and welcome to Hogwarts!  You will be escorted into the Great Hall very shortly, and sorted into your houses.  They are as follows: Gryffidnor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  I, Professor Filius Flitwick, am the head of Ravenclaw House.  Now, listen carefully, as this is very important.  Each house either gains or loses points throughout the year.  The house with the most points is awarded the House Cup at the End of Term Feast.  Your achievements earn points for your house, and wrongdoing loses points.  Now, the reason this is important is because your House is something of a second family.  You’ll eat, sleep, and study as one, spending most of your free time in your house’s common room.  You’ll be sorted soon.”

“I do hope we’re in the same house!” Constance whispered excitedly to Salazar as they stood in line in the Great Hall.  The Sorting Hat, placed on its stool, then began its song, which it sang every year.

“Hogwarts was founded long, long ago  
By prestidigitators four  
They shared a goal to educate sorcerers  
In those olden days of yore  


Tonight, a ceremony takes place  
Which honors their memories each  
You’ll put me on and then be sorted  
after this short little speech

Perhaps you’ll be put into Hufflepuff  
Which Helga Hufflepuff began  
Saying ‘I’ll take them all and teach them  
regardless of strength or mind-span’

You may wind up in Gryffindor  
Godric Gryffindor was its founder  
‘I accept the valorous,’ said he  
‘the ones who in trials never flounder’

You just might be part of Slytherin  
Salazar Slytherin created this brood  
‘I’ll teach only the worthy,’ he declared  
‘the ambitious and purest of blood’

Or maybe you’ll be of Ravenclaw  
Rowena Ravenclaw said  
‘I’ll train the most witty and clever  
and the ones who are most well-read’

So step right up and put me on  
you first-years who anxiously wait  
You’ll find I’ve never once been wrong  
and that’s _never_ been up for debate”

The students and teachers applauded as the hat bowed, and soon, the names were called.  “Alexston, John,” was placed in Ravenclaw.  “Avery, Sarah” became a Gryffindor, and the sorting continued.  Salazar watched as the students were sorted one by one.  This year, there were a hundred first years, remarkably more than there had been after the First Wizarding War.  Soon, “Havisham, Constance” was called, and she sat on the stool, and waited for a good two minutes.

She sat there with the hat on her head.  “Hmmmm… you _are_ a Havisham… so you know where all but two of you have gone,” it mused.  “Yes, you’ve got the wits to be put in there, but what’s this…?  Courage?  Yes, a good deal of it to be sure.  Very impressive, Miss Havisham.  Oh and ambition to match your intellect, I see.  _You_ want to be _respected_.  To disprove the negative stigma surrounding old wizarding families, I know of it.  Ever since _he_ came back, you’ve been…”  The hat paused.  “I know _exactly_ how you can fulfill your ambition to prove them all wrong, don’t I?”  The hat finally shouted, “ _Slytherin_!”

Salazar watched as a very surprised Constance walked to the Slytherin table, and then, finally, as if he’d waited for three days, his name was called, and he walked confidently to the stool.  The hat was placed on his head, and he smiled.  “Certainly a simpler choice than some,” the hat said.  “You’ve got all the qualities of a Lucilius.  Ambition in the right amounts, _and_ a thirst for knowledge.  And you’re most assuredly no coward.  Guess it’s the same place for you as most all the other Lucilii go,” the hat decided.  “You are, of course, a…”  The hat straightened up.  “ _Slytherin_!”

Salazar walked over to the Slytherin table with a spring in his step, sitting next to Constance.  “Just like I thought!” he said proudly to a boy sitting next to him.    
The boy looked at Salazar and nodded.  “A Lucilius in Slytherin,” he said, “typical.  Wasn’t a single one of you who went to some other house… oh wait.  No… one was a Ravenclaw, and the other was a Hufflepuff.”    
“Could be worse,” said Salazar, “could’ve been related to a Gryffindor.”    
The boy laughed.  “Touché!” he crowed.  “I’m Alistair Smythe.  This’ll be my second year here.”  The two boys shook hands.  “Dad’s been teaching me a few spells on the sly,” said Salazar.  “I could show you once we get to the common room, yeah?”  
“Sure,” said Alistair.

Salazar then turned to Constance.  “You look shook up, Connie,” he said.  “You okay?”  
Constance wasn’t crying, but she was certainly in some shock.  “I just… well I never thought… yes I want to disprove the stigma that all old wizarding families are on… well you know, _that_ man’s side, but… I was hoping to do it as a Ravenclaw.”  
“Eh, you got your wish didn’t you?  We’re in the same house.”  
“Yeah you’re right,” said Constance, starting to eat.  “Things could be a _lot_ worse.”  
“I know, right?  Imagine me as a _Gryffindor_.”  
“Oh _please_ , no!” said a ghost who’d just glided over.  “That would be a fate worse than even the Dementor’s Kiss.  I am the Bloody Baron; I was merely inspecting the new serpents.”  
“Slytherin for life and beyond!” Salazar said, raising his glass.  Several students who’d heard him, presumably fifth and fourth years, raised their glasses and muttered, “Hear, hear.”

“I say… wasn’t you name _Salazar_?” the baron asked.  
“Yes,” said Salazar.  “No relation to our founder, obviously.  But Merlin was a Slytherin.”  
“I can confirm that,” said the Baron.  “I attended classes with him, you know.  Oh I could tell you some stories, young Salazar.”  
“Oh _God_ yes!  I _love_ history!”  
“So be it, young Master Lucilius,” said the baron, almost cheerily.  “I shall see you some other time.”  
“The food is _amazing_!” Constance said.  “Not as good as home cooking, but simply _amazing_!”  
“You should try food cooked muggle-style, Connie,” Salazar replied.  “It’s to _die_ for.”  
“Muggle-style?  Muggles are the strangest things alive!” Alistair put in.  “How do they live without magic?”  
“I could answer that, with my muggle aunt and uncle.  Well… actually, my aunt’s a squib who _married_ a muggle, but that’s not the point.”  
“Oh so you’re pureblood then.”  
“Not that it matters, but yeah.”  
“Hm.  Well at least no one can call you a mudblood.”

After the feast was over, the Slytherin prefects rallied their snakes, and headed to their common room.  “We live,” the prefect explained, “in the _dungeons_ , behind this brick wall.”  The prefect stood in front of said wall.  “Remember this password, now.”  He cleared his throat.  “Ambrosius.”  The wall slid open, revealing a dark room lit by green lamps, with a serpent above the roaring fireplace.  The windows opened to the underwater world of the Black Lake, and Salazar and the other first years saw the fabled giant squid swim past.  “Welcome to our common room,” said the prefect.  “I am Percival Winston if you need anything.  And now, Professor Horace Slughorn, the head of our house, will say a few words.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A fat man in a suit walked into the room and cleared his throat.  “Good evening, new members of Slytherin House, _the_ most distinguished house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” he said, making a sweeping gesture.  “Notices will be posted on that bulletin board on the wall, _and further_ … quidditch tryouts will take place in two weeks’ time.”    
“Can’t play this year,” Salazar said gloomily to himself.  
Slughorn went on to explain the rules of the House and the School for a while, and then he said, “and I want to make it _absolutely clear_ that the Forbidden Forest is _just that_ , ladies and gentlemen.  That’s all.  Goodnight.”

The next day was Sunday, so there were, naturally, no classes.  Salazar took this opportunity to break into his Defense against the Dark Arts textbook.  He was sitting under a tree, in the middle of a chapter on bowtruckles, when his ear caught the sound of an argument.  
“The only Havisham not in Ravenclaw,” a boy drawled.  “Too _stupid_ for it?”  
“Shut up!” Constance barked.  “What kind of Slytherin _are_ you?  Doesn’t House loyalty mean anything?”  
“Can’t we weed you out, Havisham?  Come on!  Not smart enough for ravenclaw, and surely not clever enough for Slytherin!  Why you’d make a fair Hufflepuff!”  
Salazar walked over and calmly stated, “Bold of you to pick on my friend here.  You’d make a half decent Gryffindor if you weren’t such a coward.”  
A few students gasped, and gathered around the brewing situation.

“Got yourself a _boyfriend_ , Connie?”  
“Got yourself an excuse, mate?” Salazar said coolly.  The other boy reached for his wand, and Salazar slowly drew his.  “Don’t you do it,” he warned, grinning.  
“Say, aren’t the Havishams a bunch of muggle lovers?  And what’s this I hear about your squib uncle?  You might as well be a mudblood.”  
Salazar pointed his wand at the other boy.  “Apologize,” he ordered.  “To Connie _and_ me.  You get one shot.  Make it count.”  
“Or what?”  
“Or I’ll make you wish you had.”  
“Better do as he says,” said Constance hotly.  
“Who asked _you_?  I bet the sorting hat just picked _your_ house _randomly_.  Nice nasty surprise to us all.  It’s a disgrace to the Havisham family, though.  Ah well, we can’t _all_ be perfect.”  
Constance ran off crying, and Salazar’s blood boiled with rage.  Instantly, without thinking, he shouted, “ _ALARTE ASCENDARE_!!”

The gathered students gasped, watching in amazement as the now startled bully flew ten feet in the air with a loud whizz like a bottle rocket, and landed with a loud splash in the Black Lake.  Salazar sheathed his wand and sighed as the tension left the scene.  “ _Brilliant_!” chimed a third-year.  
“Where’d you learn _that_ one?!” demanded a Ravenclaw first year.  “My parents never taught _me_ magic, they can’t _do_ magic, they’re _muggles_!”  The poor wet bully was now sputtering as a teacher dragged him over to Salazar.  
“ _You bloody fool_!” the teacher roared.  “ _You apologize to this boy right now, and Miss Havisham_!”  
“Ah, sir,” said Salazar, “Miss Havisham is now crying under a tree.”  
“ _YOU MADE A GIRL CRY YOU UNCHIVALROUS GIT_?!” the teacher roared.  “ _WHY I OUGHT TO GIVE YE DETENTION ALL YEAR_!!”

“What’s your name, boy?”  
“It’s Salazar Lucilius, sir.”  
“Right.  Well as for _you_ , I can’t dock you points.  You _have_ no points yet.  So tell ye what I’ll do.”  He released the other boy, who fell forward and regained his balance.  “First, I’ll ask what the bloomin’ ‘ell went on back there.”  
“He was making fun of Constance, sir,” said one of the impressed students.  “Lucilius here walked over and told the bloke off for insulting her, and then he called Salazar a mudblood.”  
“He… _did_ … WHAT?!”  
“Yeah, ‘cause his uncle’s a squib and married a muggle.  Anyway… Salazar demanded an apology.”  
“Oh, I should _think_ so!”  
“He refused, insulting Constance some more, and then Salazar, he…”  The other student sputtered slightly.  “W- Well, he… cast a spell and rocketed the idiot towards the lake where you found him.”

The teacher turned to Salazar.  “Well,” he said, stroking his chin, “Tell ye what, lad.  I’ll say ten points fer Slytherin fer that show of gallantry… but it’s detention with me tomorrow fer the fight.  Think that’s fair.”  The teacher walked off, accosting the bully again and shouting at the top of his lungs something that amounted to detention for a week.  
Salazar’s next move was to see about Constance.  “Hey… are you alright?” he asked softly, sitting next to her.  
“Are all Slytherins like that?” she sobbed.  
“Am I?” Salazar asked.  “Are _you_?  No.  So the answer is obviously no.  Him on the other hand?”  
“I so wish I could’ve done more than just that spell,” Constance said thickly.  
“Come here, Connie,” said Salazar gently.  Constance grabbed onto him, breathing shakily as he held her in kind, gently stroking her hair. “Don’t let those fools get you down,” said Salazar, rocking her gently.  “They’re jealous, you see?”  
“Really?”  
“Well yeah,” said Salazar.  “I mean, you were almost a _Ravenclaw_.  Why _exactly_ did the hat put you in Slytherin?”  
“To… to help me prove that not all old wizarding… wizarding families are evil?”

Salazar smiled.  “Alright,” he said.  “So show ‘em how good you are and outwit ‘em at every turn.  _Forget_ that troll-brained codger.  It’s mind over matter, Connie.  You don’t mind… and _he_ … _doesn’t_ … _matter_!”  
Constance and Salazar kept holding each other for a short while, and eventually, Salazar helped her to her feet.  “Come on, Connie, let’s talk about that spell I just cast earlier,” he said, leading her to the common room.  
When they got there, several Slytherins clapped Salazar on the shoulder.  “You son of a _banshee_ how did you _do_ that!” one of them exclaimed.  “Cor that was _awesome_!”  
“You point your wand at what you want to affect and tell the wand how you want to affect them, it’s quite simple,” Salazar replied.  “At least… that’s how my dad puts it.”  
“Well maybe your father’s a bloody _genius_!” said a Slytherin girl.

“Alright, alright!” boomed Slughorn’s voice.  “Break it off, break it off!”  He strode into the middle of the room.  “What exactly is everyone cheering about?”  
Salazar explained to Professor Slughorn what had happened, and about the detention he’d received.  
“Ah… a shame, that,” said Professor Slughorn.  “But not all confrontations can be solved diplomatically.”  Constance was sitting on a sofa in the corner of the room.  
“She’s sulking,” said Alistair.  “Now about those spells you wanted to show me…”  
Salazar nodded.  “Right.  Dad’s been teaching me how to duel.  It’s where I got the charm I used on that idiot back on the grounds.  Then you’ve got your disarming charm. Can’t show you here, your wand might poke someone’s eye out.”  
Dinner came soon, and during that time, Salazar sat between Constance and Alistair.  “Alistair Smythe, meet Constance Havisham… and vice versa,” Salazar said.

“Charmed,” said Constance, who was considerably cheered up.  “A shame about the detention, Salazar, but you got us ten points, at least.”  
“All right there, Lucilius?” said a girl across the table.  
“Doing fine here, how are you?”  
“Doing alright.  The name’s Victoria Jackson.  I’m a chaser on the quidditch team.”  
“How ‘bout those Bats?” Salazar said.  
“I’m a Puddlemere United fan, so I wouldn’t know.”  
“Oh,” said Salazar.  “I’m sorry.  Ah well, could be worse.  You could be a Falmouth fan.”  
“Ugh…” Constance groaned.  “How can _anyone_ cheer for a team that doesn’t play _fair_?”  
Salazar took another bite of his pheasant.  “Been reading my DADA textbook,” he said.  “I read mostly about gargoyles and the knockback jinx.  Interesting stuff, might be my favorite subject.”

“It’s History of Magic for me,” said Victoria.  “Did you know that Merlin was a Slytherin?”  
Everyone nodded, and Salazar cocked his head.  “Common knowledge, I think,” he said.  
The next day was the first day of class, and Salazar saw that the Slytherins would be taking Defense Against the Dark Arts first.  Salazar beamed as they walked to the classroom, and when everyone was seated, in walked the professor who’d confronted Salazar yesterday.  “I,” he said, “am yer new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Geoffery Smyke.  I believe in practice over theory… but we _will_ go over theory in this class as needed.  Lucilius!”  He walked over to Salazar.  “Can you tell me what a bowtruckle is?”  
Salazar nodded.  “It’s a creature that makes its home in trees whose wood happens to be good enough to make wands.”  
“Correct!  Five points to Slytherin!  Now can someone _else_ , anyone at all, tell me how one would go about persuading bowtruckles to leave ye alone as ye went and got the wood?”  
Victoria was copying down notes furiously, and Salazar was doing the same, albeit more carefully.

Salazar was right about one thing: he enjoyed Defense against the Dark Arts immensely, but soon the time came for classes to be over.  When all was said and done, Salazar had also wound up in potions and charms class.  Now, however, it was time to face the music, preferably before dinner.  He headed to Professor Smyke’s office, and knocked on the door.  _He’ll send me into the forest for sure_ , he thought to himself.  The door opened, revealing Smyke.  This was it… detention.


	4. Chapter 4

Professor Smyke’s office was a comfortable place… but Salazar Lucilius wasn’t there to get cozy.  “Right,” said Smyke in his cockney accent.  “Reason you’re here is simple.  You’ve mucked it up, and you’ve gotta pay your debt.  Here’s how you’ll do it.”  
Salazar was led into the classroom and as he looked around, he got a sense of what he was to do.  
“This classroom,” said Professor Smyke, making a sweeping gesture, “is filthy.  You’ll spend your detention sweeping the floor and dusting the desks.  No magic, Salazar.  That’s cheating, that is.”  
Salazar would start with the desks.  He’d dust them, and whatever fell on the floor would be swept.  There were twenty desks that needed dusting, and the classroom was a middling-sized room.  Regardless, Salazar estimated he’d spend around two hours cleaning the place.  He got a broom, sighed, and got to work.  “This is what I get,” he said to himself.

At the Slytherin table was an entertaining affair, at least according to Constance, who was working on a meal of shredded beef, scalloped potatoes, and peas.  “Isn’t Slughorn _the_ most fun teacher you’ve had?” Constance said.  “Forgetfulness potions… if I forget how to brew them, that would be sweet irony.”  
Victoria and Alistair laughed.  “I still can’t believe charms class is so easy,” Alistair said.  “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!  Say it wrong and get your face blown off.”  
“Oy,” a voice called from the other end of the table, its owner walking briskly towards the other three.  “Noticed I’m late.  Beastly sorry.  Smyke had me cleaning the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom.  I thought it’d take me two hours… it took me _four_.  Now!”  He clapped his hands together.  “Where’s… that… food?  Ah!  There it is!”

“And what have we learned today, Lucilius?” Alistair croaked in a decent impersonation of Professor Smyke.  
“Don’t be a hero,” Salazar muttered dolefully as he helped himself.  
“So what do you think your patronus is?” Constance asked.  
“Eh, probably something cool, hopefully a dragon!”  
“Mine’s _got_ to be a unicorn,” Constance said matter-of-factly.  “I _can’t_ have it any other way.”  
Salazar suddenly cringed and shuddered.  
“Bad potatoes, Salazar?” Victoria asked.  
“Worse,” he groaned.  “It’s double herbology with Gryffindor tomorrow.  
“No!” Alistair cried, banging his fist on the table.  “I don’t mind the subject, but _Gryffindors_?”  
“Should’ve named it Dementor House,” said Victoria bitterly.  “’Cause Gryffindors suck all the fun out of the room.”

“Young Master Salazar,” said the baron as he glided across the table.  “I was wondering when you’d show up.”  
“Sorry I’m late, Your Bloodiness,” Salazar said, shrugging.  “Detention with Professor Smyke.  Had me cleaning the classroom… _without magic_.  Tell me something, Baron.  Do I look like a squib to you?”  
“Muggle’s work!” said the Baron indignantly.  “Of all the shameful… ah well, you learned your lesson, yes?”  
“You bet your… erm… death?”  
The Bloody baron let out a chuckle.  “Peeves decided it would be fun to bang on the pipes in the walls,” he spat.  “Blasted poltergeist.  It’s a wonder he wasn’t driven out of this school _centuries_ ago!  At any rate, I heard about what you did yesterday.  You showed valor worthy of a Gryffindor… if you’ll pardon that _terrible_ slur.”  
“It’s not an insult if you’re making a point,” said Salazar casually.  “But we’ve got double herbology with Gryffindor tomorrow.  Think I’d rather be accosted by Lord Voldemort.”

“OY!” Victoria cried.  “Why’d you have to say his name?!”  
Constance and Alistair looked shocked, as did a few other students.  “What does Albus Dumbledore say about names?” Salazar asked coolly, leaning back in his chair.  “Fear of a name invokes fear of the thing itself.  Lord Voldemort is _dead_ , and therefore, we’ve nothing to fear.”  
“He’s… got a point,” Constance said with a slow nod.  
When the four returned to the common room, Salazar saw someone he had hoped not to meet.  “Bet you wish I’d drowned, don’t you?” sneered the other boy.  “ _I’m_ Cornelius Goodwine, and _you_ need to learn some manners.”  Cornelius drew his wand, and Salazar smiled.  
“Oh, come now,” he replied casually.  “I thought the matter was settled.”  
“Far from it, mate,” said Cornelius coldly.  
Salazar just smiled and put his arm around Cornelius’ shoulder.  “Come now,” he said good-naturedly.  “Why must you treat me with such disrespect?  All I did was remind you not to pick on Connie, that’s all.  Something I’ve been meaning to show you, Cornelius.  Walk with me.”

When the two left the common room, they walked a short ways, and Salazar leaned against the wall lazily.  “See this hallway we’re standing in, Cornelius?  Notice… it’s devoid of life.  Ghosts haunt it, but like I said, it’s devoid of _life_.  Now… this can mean one of two things.  Either it’s a good place for a snog, or…”  Salazar straightened up and held up a finger.  “…It’s a good place for a duel.  I hope it never comes to that between us, Cornelius, I really do.”  
Cornelius didn’t know what to say.  Salazar was clearly of no mind to fight, but did that make him weak?  No… he’d made it clear he was no coward when he’d rocketed Cornelius into the Lake.  “What’s your game, Lucilius?” Cornelius asked boredly.  
“I was _hoping_ you’d ask,” Salazar said happily, clapping his hands together joyously.  “The point is… I’d really appreciate it if you’d please not pick on Constance Havisham again.  It’d be a waste of your energy, you’d hurt Connie terribly… and you just… might… upset me… _very_ slightly.  That’s it.  Thanks, mate.”

The common room soon emptied, and Salazar took Constance aside.  “Connie, if he hurts you again in any way, I want you to tell me.  Don’t tell the teacher, snitches don’t make it very far in life.”  
“But… what could _you_ do?  If _you_ don’t tell a teacher, then…”  
“I’ve got everything under control, Connie,” said Salazar reassuringly.  “Don’t you worry about a thing.”  
Constance smiled.  “You’ll think of something,” she said, “Remember the owl you sent me about how the seeker catches the snitch while the beaters keep the bludgers away?  Are you like… one of the beaters?  Keeping bullies away from me?”  
“Think of me as the seeker, Connie,” said Salazar.  “I don’t _need_ to keep the bullies away.  Not when I’ve got people to do it for me.  That’d be step two.”  
“Step two?” constance said, cocking her head.  She barely had time to consider what Salazar had said before she headed to the dormitory and succumbed to sleep in her bed.


End file.
